Music Memory
by Gumnut
Summary: An old loss is suddenly brought up and Virgil reacts badly.


Title: Music Memory

Author: Gumnut

11 Mar 2019

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: An old loss is suddenly brought up and Virgil reacts badly.

Word count: 2375

Spoilers & warnings: None

Timeline: Post season two, standalone

Author's note: For i-am-chidorixblossom who had a bad day yesterday. The request was brotherly hugs and this happened. Not too sure about it, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. Many thanks to scribbles97 for the read through and putting up with my lack of confidence.

Disclaimer: Mine? You've got to be kidding. Money? Don't have any, don't bother.

-o-o-o-

He struck the key but it came out flat. A frown and he yanked off his gloves. Should have taken them off before attempting the piano, but he had to do this before he lost the tune.

Bare fingers made it easier and he struck out the basic melody caught in his head. But it was only part of a tune, yet it was going around and around. An old memory, where the hell had it come from and what was it?

Grabbing a piece of paper, he scribbled down the notes he had managed to discover already.

"Virg, are you going to change out of your uniform? You stink." Gordon wandered into the comms room from the kitchen with a plate piled high with leftovers. There was definitely some chicken and possibly some lasagna in that pile, he could smell it.

"Need to work this out first." It was muttered distractedly. He honestly had to grab this before he lost it. It was a song, he was sure of it. It sat at the very edge of his memory and nagged him. He knew enough to know he didn't have the tune right. But he had to get it right. It meant something. Something important.

They had attended an earthquake this morning and while hunting through the remains of a shopping mall, he had come across a section that still somehow had power. No doubt from the mostly intact solar panels that had collapsed along with the roof. Something electrical had survived and the music was still playing, albeit in loop and fragmented.

It had been both familiar and irritating. Now it was caught in his head and he was sure it was important. He had heard it before. He just couldn't remember...

He struck the keys again, fingering it out. C, D, E, E, D, F, A, C, C.

Again.

Again.

Where had he heard this?

Again.

"Virg, are you going to keep playing that same bit over and over again?"

Again.

This is important. He knew he knew it, but from where?

Again.

His baldric rubbed against the piano stool, shifting it awkwardly across his body. His uniform was definitely not designed for piano playing.

Again.

"Virgil?"

Again. Damnit, he knew this.

Again.

What if he varied the speed?

Again.

F sharp?

Again.

"Virgil!"

Again. Damnit! Again. It was there. It was damn important. Why couldn't he connect the dots?

Again.

Again.

Again.

"VIRGIL!"

He flinched and found Gordon in his face. "What?!"

"Do you have to do that?"

"Yes."

"Can't you play something else?"

"No, I need to work this out."

"Can you work it out somewhere else?"

"No, Gordon. If I recall I was in here first. You were the one who decided to join me."

"It is irritating as all hell. Part of a song over and over and over again. C'mon, bro. Play something else."

"No! I need to work this out. It's important."

"Why?"

"I don't know! Now, leave me alone. I have to work it out."

He played it again.

And again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

"For god's sake, Virgil, can you stop it please!"

"No!"

Again. It was so close. Just on the edge of memory.

"It's like listening to Mom die over and over again. Virgil, please!"

Virgil froze, hands poised above the piano keys. "What?"

Gordon sighed. "It's like that song that kid in the waiting room had playing too loud on his headphones, the day Mom died. Something about 'teddy bear love'. I have no idea. All I know is that I avoid it like the plague and now you start playing something like it repetitively while I'm trying to eat my dinner after a damn long and sucky rescue. So, please, can I ask you to just stop?"

Virgil stared at him as the image formed in his mind. The stark white walls of the hospital waiting room. His arms full of a young Gordon, half asleep in his lap, Scott beside him on one side, John on the other. Alan curled up asleep in Scott's arms. Dad and Grandma talking to a sober faced doctor.

And another family in the room, waiting and just as terrified. A young boy attempting to shut out the world with music, far too loud on his headphones, the tune drifting across the room.

Dad's stony face trying to ignore the tears running down his cheeks as he told them that Mom wasn't going to be coming home.

Something caught in Virgil's throat. An old pain, a sharp pain, oh, god, he didn't realise. Shit!

"Virgil?"

"I-I'm sorry, Gords. I'm...excuse me." He stood up like a robot. His uniform creaked as he strode from the room.

-o-o-o-

Gordon stared after his brother and frowned. The man had paled, his eyes wide, as if...aw, hell.

He dropped the plate full of food onto the centre table, appetite suddenly gone, and closed his eyes. Did his brother honestly not remember that piece of music? Gordon would have thought with the man's musical talent, his musical memory would be stronger than his.

Apparently not.

Or perhaps he had just blocked it out.

It had been a horrible time. Each of them affected in their own way. Virgil had been one of the stronger ones, reaching out to his brothers and supporting them when it got too much. Scott had been a champion, leading them through it all, picking up where Dad fell down. But Virgil had been the shoulder to cry on, the one the younger boys went to when it became too much.

Gordon couldn't remember whether his second oldest brother had ever cried himself. He had always assumed that Scott had been the one to see to him.

But then Virgil had always been different.

He sighed.

Damn.

Standing up, he stretched out aching muscles and followed his brother from the room.

-o-o-o-

One of the advantages of living on an island was the many beaches. If there was a lack of a beach, there was plenty of oceanic cliff to sit on and gaze out into an infinity of water and sky.

It was evening after a long day and everything ached. Now those aches were joined by an old injury to his heart. His insides were a knotted twist of hurt. Old hurt. Stupid hurt. He should be over this.

But apparently, his gut felt differently.

How could he have not remembered? Now the memory was in place, the song came back to him clearly. It was a monotonous and repetitive composition. It had played over and over again, that boy desperate to shut the world out. Must have been his favourite song.

Virgil swallowed and a gust of wind caught his hair. His uniform made him impervious to the environment and for a moment he felt that restriction, that lack of contact. So standing on a cliff far above the ocean, Virgil Tracy shed his International Rescue uniform. His baldric fell to the rocks, followed by his blue jumpsuit and boots. Left in his black undershirt and shorts he shivered in the wind, but relished it. He yanked off his socks and his bare feet made contact with the rock beneath.

And for a moment he just stood there and closed his eyes.

The first tear fell before he even realised he was crying.

And once that was loose there was no stopping the others. Before he knew it, he was crouched on the rock bawling his eyes out. He had no idea where this had come from. No idea why now. Mom died years ago.

The mere thought brought another sob to the surface.

God, what the hell was wrong with him?

But then there were arms around him, holding him, gently rocking, muttering words of comfort. The arms were strong but smaller than his own and a vague sense registered that it was his brother Gordon who was witnessing this travesty, but he was beyond it. Beyond it all.

He found himself crying broken sobs on his little brother's shoulder.

-o-o-o-

Gordon found his brother shedding his clothes on a cliff on the other side of the island. He didn't approach immediately, quite frankly wondering what the hell Virgil was doing stripping down to his underwear out in the open. On a normal day, this would be perfect fodder for teasing the man. But this was not a normal day.

The moment Virgil started crying, Gordon's heart broke.

What the hell was going on?

He wasn't sure he had ever seen Virgil cry and here was the man curling in on himself, tears pouring down his cheeks.

Gordon didn't hesitate. He ran up to his brother and wrapped his arms around him, holding the bigger man the best way he could. "C'mon, Virg, it's okay. It happens."

The man turned to him without looking him in the face and Gordon found himself holding his big brother as he sobbed on his shoulder.

"Virg, it's okay. It's okay." He wasn't good at this. He didn't even know the cause so he had no idea how to make it all better. How could he fix this? He didn't know, so he just held on.

He loved his brother. Virgil had been there for him all his life. That very night of his mother's death, it had been Virgil who held him while he cried. While he tried to understand why his mommy would never be coming back.

All his brothers were supportive by nature. They were a very close knit family, but there had always been something about Virgil. Gordon had always looked up to him and Virgil had always acknowledged him, always looked after him. The man was very different to Gordon, but those differences made their relationship work.

Gordon ribbed his brother because that was a way to speak to the man. Other than work, they had little in common beside their familial connection. Gordon used teasing to reach out to Virgil, to lighten him up, to make him smile, and, yes, to make him groan. This was the man who held his life in his hands every time he dropped Module Four onto the ocean. The trust was there, the love was there, Gordon wanted to be there for his brother, too.

It didn't usually involve holding him while he cried.

But that was life, so he'd do his best.

"C'mon, Virg, this is my favourite shirt. Tear stains are not groovy, man."

Virgil didn't answer, just drew in a shaky breath and straightened up. His eyes were wretched and red.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"Sorry." The familiar baritone was hardly there. His brother rubbed his face with both hands. "I don't know where that came from."

"Is this about Mom?"

And there it was. A flicker of hurt and the welling of further tears. The expression on Virgil's face emanated pain and loss.

"I'm with you, Virg." His own voice had dropped to whisper quiet. "Come here." He gestured his brother to him.

Virgil stared.

"Aw, c'mon. I know I'm your kid brother. I know I'm younger than you. But I was there, too. It hurt. It still hurts. Sure, I didn't know her as well as you and Scott, but she was still my mom. I still lost her just as you did." He swallowed, his own emotions welling at the memories. "We may be grown men, but she was our mom, Virgil, and we have the right to mourn her. You have the right. So come here and give me a damn hug and we'll work through this."

Virgil's eyes widened and it took him a moment, but he shifted closer a little, staring at Gordon the entire time.

Man, it was like enticing a walrus to eat from his hand. Except the walrus was easier.

In the end, Gordon closed the distance between them and wrapped his arm about his older brother's shoulders. "Have you ever talked to anyone about Mom?"

Still staring, his brother shrugged. "Talked with Scott, you, all of you really."

Gordon rolled his eyes. "Not about us and our feelings. About yours."

"I did."

"Bullshit."

"Gordon-"

"All you've even said to me on the subject has been how I have been feeling."

"Scott-"

"Should I contact him? What do you think his answer would be?"

"Gordon-"

This time he interrupted his brother by drawing him into a tight hug. It stifled whatever the man had been about to say. "Love you, bro."

Virgil's large hands crept around him and returned the embrace. Voice parched. "Love you, too."

"She was our Mom, and we loved her."

"We did."

"It sucks that she was taken away."

"It does."

"I miss her."

It took a moment, but the words were whispered into his shirt. "I miss her, too."

After that, nothing more was said. It was just two brothers on a sea cliff holding each other.

Sometime later, Virgil drew in another shaky breath and straightened again, breaking off the hug. He wiped his face with one hand and shook himself a little. "Thank you, Gordon."

A slight smile. "Any time, bro." He reached out a hand and gripped the man's considerable bicep. "Look after yourself."

"Will do." And Virgil was standing, grabbing his discarded uniform, shoving the socks and boots on his feet. A moment and he offered Gordon his hand to help him up.

Gordon took it and bounced to his feet. "So, do you always wear tight shorts under your uniform?"

Virgil frowned at him. "What?"

"I can see the attraction. They obviously show off your butt quite nicely and when those IR fans get their hands on you, you have to know that your underwear will live up to the hype."

"Gordon!"

"What?"

Suddenly there was a meaty arm around him again and he was being drawn into yet another hug, this time crushed up against his taller brother's massive chest. "Oh god, Virg!"

Virgil let off a laugh, his chest shaking with it. "I love you, bro. God, I do."

And if there was a touch of noogie, Gordon didn't care. He was too happy seeing his brother smile.

-o-o-o-

FIN.


End file.
